


At Last

by Xobit



Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2014-12-03
Packaged: 2018-02-28 00:58:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2713114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xobit/pseuds/Xobit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Megatron finally won…</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Last

**Author's Note:**

> A gift for DA artist Murr-Miay
> 
> http://murr-miay.deviantart.com/art/At-last-281991233

When he was sparked by Vector Sigma it had been along with a batch of last ditch afford to gain warriors. Of course it had gone like the rest of the attempts… he had been a little older than most sparked by the great artifact but that was all the luck the Autobot council had had. 

Less than three vorn later Iacon had fallen and he, and the rest of his batch, had been taken from their nursery and hauled out of the city. 

They did not revert to a life on the run just yet. Iacon may have been the largest Autobot stronghold but it was not the last. Still their youngling vorns were spent in hopping from stronghold to stronghold, being trained to fight and encouraged to like fighting. 

None of them really did though. It was simply not in their nature. 

When he reached what might be called early adulthood he was proficient in the use of his ax and his grapplers and was sent into his first battle. 

They did not turn the tide of the war. 

By the time he had survived a hundred battles his life was about nothing but running, fighting and surviving. Nominally he held the title of ‘Prime’ but it hardly meant anything anymore. And that was when he met his nemesis the first time…

oOo

“Give up, little Autobot, you are no match for me,” the sneering was rewarded with his axes blunt end. Optimus had little regard for Decepticons and even less regard for observing rules in battle… he had been fighting for most of his life, mock battles if not real battles. 

Another mech tried to get at him and the blade of his ax took off an arm. He never said a word no matter what insult was thrown his way, what threats were hurled at him. If he was ever caught he would be killed, if he was killed… All that mattered was staying alive. 

“You are an unusual one,” he whirled about, yanking his ax from dark blue plating to fix on the new threat. Looking up his blue optics widened at the sight, no Autobot could mistake this Decepticon…

Megatron, the leader of the Decepticons. A giant, pewter grey and black with angry red slashes. Huge fusion canon spinning with its aggressive buzz, swords drawn… plating and weapons liberally splashed with energon in different stages of drying. 

Shaking off the moment of stunning recognition he barred his dermas and leapt, only to be slapped, _slapped_ , away like Megatron was offing an annoying mecha insect. He did not have a long time to fume in, the battle went on and he could not get near the Decepticon leader again. 

But he remembered and he resented it. 

oOo

With that encounter in processor he buried himself in learning whenever he was not training and commanding. 

Studying history, as well as he could while almost constantly on a run. The picture he puzzled together was a strange one indeed. 

And the more he learned, the more he thought and puzzled the more he changed. He became a better commander, a better mech. He began worrying about honor and about what should and should not be done in a battle. 

Oh he would still fight to survive but he was never cruel anymore, and he began joining the medics after a battle… giving out mercy when needed, so that they did not have to kill. He rose from admired and feared, to adored and loved. 

But he never even noticed. 

Of course there was another factor. He kept meeting the Decepticon leader on the battlefield and survived the encounters. Sometimes he got hurt, even badly but he always survived. 

oOo

“Still not tired of fighting, little Prime?” the taunt was familiar, and if asked Optimus would not be able to tell when he had begun responding to it… or why. 

“I will never tire of fighting you!” it was all he knew after all, he had been raised to fight Decepticons and despite all his research he had seen no reason not to. There had been wrong on both sides, and right on both sides. A war had not been necessary; it could have been done differently. But a war was what they had and the Autobots that were left did not deserve to be killed simply because they were Autobots… so he fought for them.

“Bold words, little Prime,” he hated that nickname, perhaps he showed it too much. Megatron seemed to take great joy in calling him that at least. the mech seemed to take pleasure in taunting him on the battlefield, searching him out for fighting… 

Why? Sometimes he wanted to ask so badly that the question was only held back by the fact that they were enemies. 

“Sure words, Megatron, I will not let you take the last of us, not now… not ever!” his words were the same, his conviction the same, always. Megatron seemed to find it amusing. 

Always. 

oOo

It all came to an end quite suddenly. Shockingly simple. 

Another battle, in another long fallen ruin of some city or other. Another series of jabs, threats and amused, condescending, jeers from the Decepticon leader. 

A derelict roof gave out under their combined weight. 

When he struggled free and got to his pedes Megatron was the one still holding weapons and the fight was… anticlimactically short. To Optimus surprise he was not killed, instead the larger mech put him in stasis cuffs and pushed him out of the ruin. 

Out into the open where the battle died out and every one stared. Autobots with chock, confusion and grief, Decepticons with shock, leers and victory in their optics. He met their optics, expecting that Megatron would make an example of him, execute him right there maybe. 

He did not expect the victory cheer that broke out on the Decepticon side, or that his own would break and flee. Nor that Megatron would hauled him over one broad pewter grey shoulder pauldron and smack his aft with his large black hand.

“I have him! The young Prime, pride of the Autobots!” more cheering, laughter and hoots, a few suggestions, that Optimus wish he could have unheard, about what to do with his new captive. Megatron laughed uproarishly, seemingly highly amused by his troops lewd fantasies. 

“Maybe, for now though I think his pride should be cooled in a cell somewhere, can’t have him feel entitled to attention, now can we?” Optimus growled and Megatron smacked him harder, making him yelp and gasp. 

“For such a little menace he was quite easy to catch, without his fearsome ax he was not much to reckon with,” more cheering sounded and someone suggested that he bring the ax to the berthroom and play a little with the blunt shaft. He felt sick, especially since Megatron again simply laughed, assuring his troops that the weapon would see some use in Decepticon hands in the future. 

“So easy you had to have a building collapse on us both to catch me?” Optimus snarled back tired of listening to what amounted to empty bragging. He had not been _easy_. He yelped again as another smack was laid on his aft. Someone yelled something about warming his aft good and Megatron rumbled amused and rubbed his hand over his aft. He could not help squirming a little. 

“Since the battle has been won it is time to return home, a feast will be held this last meal! To victory my Decepticons!” a roar of approval and of engines kicking in and off they took towards the Decepticon stronghold in Kaon.

The Decepticons had a wonderful feast… Optimus could have done without! He was paraded around, jeered at, leered at, pawed at. The more high grade that flowed the more hands on the Decepticons became. 

He was quite surprised though, when some random mech began pawing his panel Megatron pulled him from the crowd and sent him off with a pair of mechs that weren’t imbibed to be incarcerated in a cell. 

A lonely, dark cell somewhere in the bowls of Megatron’s ruling city. 

Still… it was better than witnessing the victory party. Even with the heavy chains.

oOo

He was not as sure about that after a time, he could not even tell how much time had passed by simple calculation. He’d stopped keeping time after a groon. Of course he could check his chronometer but he was reluctant to do so… he felt forgotten, useless and his processor was filled with wonderings about the Autobots… what might have happened to them. 

A long time after his imprisonment, or so he thought, someone finally came to visit him. A dim light came on glinting off well polished plating, showing him a huge mech. But he could barely see anything, pain stabbing at his processor from optics that were not even used to this weak light.

“So far you have fallen, little Prime,” he knew the voice though, would have known it if he had simply been able to feel the deep vibration. He knew that voice more intimately than he knew any other. 

“Megatron,” his own voice was nothing but a dry rasp, static riddled from underuse. 

“I hope you are enjoying your new home?” 

“Go…” he paused and gathered himself, “Go away, Megatron, I am not interested in your company.”

“Too bad, little Prime,” he tried to ignore the Decepticon but it was difficult. Megatron stayed for almost a joor before growing tired of jeering at his captive. Then he left and Optimus relished the dark and the silence for a while. 

But only for a while. Constant dark and constant silence was driving him slowly mad… and he came to crave the times that Megatron came to lord over him. So much that he kept on answering the mech, just to keep him there a little bit longer. 

At first the visits were irregular, but soon enough they became a constant in his life as a captive.

When Megatron started touching him he accepted it as a price for continued company, more visits. At first it was just a brush of fingers against his cheek, a simple touch to his shoulder. But like all else this escalated, until one orn Megatron kissed him before he left. 

A hungry, brutal, taking kiss. 

He refused to speak when Megatron came again. He could have spared the effort, Megatron was not interested in speaking. This time he bit the glossa taking his mouth, surprisingly he was not slapped for his audacity. He activated his battle mask as an afterthought prompting a grin from Megatron who simply leaned in and licked his mask with his leaking glossa before he left. 

The more he fought the more determined Megatron seemed to become. He even stopped talking about his victory, over him and over the Autobots, sometimes he did not speak at all and his visits turned irregular again. 

Then it all changed a second time

oOo

Megatron came into the cell, a strangely intense look in his optics, dermas pressed together. He stopped and looked at Optimus giving him the urge to squirm and pull away.

His chains were loosened, further confusing him. Megatron sat down on his narrow cot and pulled him onto his lap, easily subduing his attempt to fight him off. Being chained up and kept on low grade rations were not conductive for physical prowess.

A somewhat chaste kiss was pressed to his dermas and then to his helmet before his arms were pulled up above and behind his helmet secured there with a few loops of his ever present chain. 

“At last you are where you should be...” the murmur was low and possessive, just as the hold of one powerful arm around his waist. And the hand holding his chain, making sure he could not get his hands back in front of his chest plates. 

“In prison?” Optimus snarled verily, not sure at all about the turn this had taken.

“Not necessarily, no…” Megatron looked… pensive? No, thoughtful. Yes that, as if he was thinking the suggestion over carefully. 

“If not in prison,” Optimus frowned, confused and annoyed. He hated that Megatron could make him rise to bait this easily. But he did not want to go back to dark and silence… “Then where should I be?” 

“At my mercy, little Autobot,” Megatron’s smirk was decidedly predatory as he leaned down to take his dermas in a kiss. Like the very first this was hungry and brutal, taking so much that he could not summon the strength to fight it off. He could not even keep his optics online…

And when it stopped all he could do was slowly online them, staring up at the mech who was his nemesis with them as wide as they could be. 

Megatron did not stop there this time though, despite feeble protests...


End file.
